


Aspectu Illo Glorior.

by eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar



Series: Ferte in Noctem. [3]
Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Other, guardian ignis, more shadow au hey hey heyyyy, more young noctis, noctis is literally like 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 03:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar/pseuds/eeeeeeeeeerenjaegar
Summary: Noctis has never feared Ignis. Ignis is his guardian, his protector and his friend, his shadow. Noctis has never feared Ignis.Well. Except for once.





	

Breathless.

Noctis runs quickly through the barren halls of the castle, barefooted, sides in stitches and lungs aflame. He can hear the sounds of his footfalls and his own heartbeat echo loudly in his ears, he can hear the sounds of boots hitting the floor with passion in the distance. It smells like smoke, it smells like the siege, and the young king swallows thickly to choke past tears that threaten to blur his vision.

It’s only been two years since his home was first raided by foreigners, by militia. It’s happening again.

_“...Why did you stop? I liked that story so far.”_

_“Hush a moment, please, Majesty.”_

_Ignis’ eyes slid shut and his brows furrowed, and it was clear he was trying to concentrate. On what, Noctis couldn’t tell, but it seemed important - so he hushed, as he was urged, and tried to zero in on exactly what it was that had Ignis’ full attention. His ears registered nothing, and when he looked back up to ask Ignis what had him so on edge, he’d already worked open the curtains and had his attentions at the gates._

_“Majesty,” He’d said, “...We may need to take leave of this place. Immediately.”_

Noctis bolts around a corner, pressing up to the wall and trying to catch his breath. He can hear metal clanging in the distance, the cock of a pistol echoing, and multiple shots that ring through the air. The sounds threaten to widen, lengthen the cracks and blemishes in the marble of the halls and flooring.

Someone screams, and the young king reflexively covers his ears to try and silence the grating noise. It still seeps through his fingers, the screaming, and he bites his lip in an effort to keep himself from making a similar noise. He swears he can smell blood, can hear the sound of Imperials shouting out their orders through the halls.

 _“_ Keep moving, _please!” Ignis’ voice boomed, and Noctis was sure he hadn’t ever heard him yell like that before. “I’ll be right behind you, Majesty, I swear."_

_Noctis couldn’t run very far, not without Ignis. He refused to leave him behind, even for just a moment, and stood rooted in place. Ignis seemed to plead with those narrow mercury eyes of his, seemed to want to beg but had no time; He looked over his shoulder and summoned both daggers with a flourish, smoke pouring off the blades._

_“Noctis, please. Do not make me do this in front of you.”_

_The king only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not knowing what Ignis meant by that. “What are you gonna do?”_

Noctis sinks down the wall, burying his face in his knees and keeping his hands over his ears. He shakes, his mind racing and nose filled with the imagined scent of blood and death. His hands still don’t do their job, and wet coughing can still be heard through his fingers; Wet coughing, gasping, sickening cracks and pops no doubt the sound of tendons ripping and bones being snapped.

Then, all at once, it silences.

There’s nothing, save for Noctis’ own labored breathing, and the sound of another’s panting from somewhere distant, but still in range. His hands lower away from his ears, and his eyes search for something - anything at all - but there… Isn’t anything. Except the sound of boots coming down the hall, but that makes Noctis freeze mid-breath, mid-blink.

Oh, no.

_The sound Ignis’ daggers made cutting and sliding through flesh was sickening. He watched Ignis sink his daggers into one man once, twice, three times before shoving him off of the blade. It was cold, calculated, and the next dagger Noctis’ eyes caught went from one end of the hall to the other, sheathing cleanly between the eyes of another trespasser. It landed with a crunch, the blood pouring out onto the floor like a distorted, demented waterfall._

_Noctis covered his mouth to keep from_ vomiting _, and then started to run._

_Not from his assassins. Not from men he’d never seen._

_From Ignis._

_Noctis had been sure before that Ignis was incapable of being as cruel as those Imperial soldiers they’d encountered during the siege. He had been sure that when Ignis killed, he did only what was necessary and no more. He was sure he didn’t carry a coldness, he was sure that when he spilled blood, it was clean. It was respectful._

_That was none of those things._

Noctis wills himself onto shaky legs as the footfalls grow closer, knowing he may well need to run. He moves with his palms against the wall, sidling as if it might help him stay out of sight. The smell floods his nose before he sees anything, the smell of smoke and blood swirling around his lungs and flooding his senses. Then, a tall figure peeks out from behind the corner and zeroes in on him.

Ignis. He smiles something full of relief, his shoulders falling. “Oh, Majesty. I’m so sorry. It’s alright now.”

Noctis takes a step back. Ignis has blood splattered across his nose, all over his coat. He looks like one of them. He looks like an Imperial. He looks like a killer.

He looks _distraught._

Noctis keeps his uncertain distance and Ignis looks like he might actually start to cry. “Majesty,” his tone is gentle, it’s caring and loving and apologetic. He drops slowly to one knee, a hand over his heart and the other behind his back; The very same symbol of submission he’d seen him give to his father at formal, important events. He bows even in that position, his eyes low. “If I’ve-- I would never hurt you, Your Majesty. I promise you.”

Noctis swallows thickly, and doesn’t step forward.

“...I am so, so sorry, Noctis. Please.”

Noctis takes a tentative step forward, leaning to try to look at Ignis’ eyes. Ignis looks up, though their eyes don’t meet. “You…” Noct begins, crossing his arms. “...You just scared me. You looked like one of them.”

Ignis looks back down with a shaky inhale. “I am so sorry. I’m so sorry I frightened you so, Majesty.”

Noctis kneels down in front of Ignis, peeking at his eyes once again. The blood is still wet, and the small king can still see it dripping down the bridge of his nose. He’s still shaky, still frightened, but it’s beginning to dull.

“Who came for us?” Noct asks after a pause, and Ignis doesn’t move an inch.

“Citizens,” Ignis begins, and his voice seems a little more collected. He seems a little more collected. “People upset with the state of Insomnia. It’s nothing you need concern yourself with just yet. You’ve got some time before you need worry of politics.”

Noctis stands up, looking over his shoulder briefly. Ignis, though doesn’t rise, and Noct raises a brow.

“You can, um, stand now. If you want.”

Ignis does as he’s told, and for the strangest reason, that puts Noct at ease. His guardian rises slowly, carefully, as if still afraid to startle him. He’s being gentle, and _this_ is the Ignis Noctis knows. Careful and gentle, not brutal, not a killer.

“Noct, I truly am sorry,” Ignis is whispering, and he sounds so upset. “I hadn’t meant for you to see that, but I cannot allow you to be hurt.”

“I know,” Noct nods, “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> more shadow au, eheh. hmu @scientiasins for more Soft Shadow Content


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